The Forest at the Edge of the World(152)
The forest had become familiar. Instead of feeling cold terror, he felt as if he’d come home. There was something about the trees that called to him like a foggy memory he’d forgotten. And that was what was so unnerving about the woods. He considered once asking his parents if there was any dormant Guarder blood in his veins. He suspected that’s why all the family lines were lost after the Great War—to hide who was related to Guarders. But he could imagine the look of shock on his father’s face should he ask such a question.
Instead, Perrin focused on the trees. Or rather, the areas behind, in front, and between the trees where no one normally looked. That’s where he moved as well, close to shrubs and pines to become part of the numerous boulders caked in frozen white. He was grateful he remembered to bring along a white scarf tonight, lifted from Mahrree’s wardrobe, to wrap around his mouth and nose in order to trap his breath so he left no telling steam clouds behind. The only thing he couldn’t control was the crunching of the snow underneath him. He practiced walking on his toes to minimize his impact, but he was a large man, and sticks even under a foot of snow still insisted on snapping with disturbing irregularity.
As he crept and scanned the area, he felt the same unexpected sense of tranquility that surprisingly enveloped him the first night. He could stay there all Raining Season if necessary. He wouldn’t mind at all.
---
One of the men in mottled white and gray clothing held out his arm to stop his companion. The group had dispersed from the steam vent high in the forest and now moved, two by two, throughout the trees just as they had the night before. This pair was close to the forest’s edge and had watched the usual patrols of the soldiers. They also saw the other patrols, close to the tall timber walls of the fort, noticeable only to those who knew how to recognize the unnoticeable.
But this—this was completely unanticipated.
“What is that?” the man’s companion breathed.
“Must be a soldier,” the other one whispered in awe. “He has a bow and quiver.”
“Is he one—”
“No, he’s not! He’s dressed in white.”
The men froze in position as the large being continued to creep along, almost noiselessly, and turned down into a small ravine.
“Remarkable!” The first man exhaled.
“But if it’s not . . . Wait a minute.” The second man peered carefully. “Might that be—”
“Yes, it’s him!”
“But why? How?”
“He must know.” The first man sighed.
“What do we do?”
“Tell everyone!”
---
Perrin saw it out of the corner of his eye, but he needed to discern if the movement also saw him. He stopped, held his breath, and hoped that he looked like one of the boulders around him. Only his dark eyes were still exposed, and they shifted to look to his right.
Definitely movement—and human. The dark shadow was loping along an elevated ridge about sixty paces to the right of Perrin. His sloppy gait indicated he didn’t know he was being watched.
“This is it.” Perrin sighed, almost disappointed that this would be his last night in the forest. He slipped between two of the boulders, noiselessly took his bow off his arm, nocked an arrow, and took aim.
The figure in black stopped to look around.
“Always two together,” Perrin whispered. “Waiting for your companion? I’ve got time.” He shifted his aim to where the figure had come from.
A moment later another shadow burst out of the trees. He never heard the twang of the bowstring, but his companion saw him drop to the ground.
“One,” Perrin whispered as he rapidly nocked the next arrow.
The first figure in black ran back to his fallen companion and dropped to his knees. Panicked at seeing the arrow protruding from the still body’s chest, he scrambled back to his feet and looked frantically around.
“Two,” Perrin whispered as he released the arrow. It struck true with a muffled thud, felling the man on top of his companion.
The urge to run up to the ridge to see if they were dead or merely injured overwhelmed Perrin, but he knew he had to stay where he was, in case they moved in fours now, instead of twos.
He’d wondered how he’d respond to taking a life from a distance. Stabbing that Guarder with his sword a year and a half ago had felt as if he was stabbed himself. But this time, he wasn’t even sure where he hit the men.
Mostly likely their chests, which was what he was aiming for. Neeks was right—the bow wasn’t his strength, but he was a fair shot.
He’d expected to feel the crushing burden of taking a life to overwhelm him as it had when he and Karna killed the Guarder. But instead it hovered in the air as if it were a black cloud, knowing more was to come, so it was waiting until it could engulf him.